


It Could Only Be Cecil

by Ynnealay



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Carlos calls him "perfect", Carlos is a Good Boyfriend, Cecil Is Not Described, Cecilos Fluff, Fluff, I mean, M/M, OC Intern - Freeform, POV Carlos (Welcome to Night Vale), Pastiche, Radio, Romance, Sick Cecil, Typical Night Vale Weirdness, and "beautiful, original episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-26 10:53:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5001937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ynnealay/pseuds/Ynnealay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cecil is sick, and with a lack of living interns, Carlos has to fill in for him. Announcements from the Night Vale Medical Community, a town-wide clothing drive, and the fact that Carlos can't stop talking about his boyfriend on air.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Could Only Be Cecil

 

 

 

Uh… ahem…

The person beside you is, uh,  not who they appear to be. If there is no one beside you... all is not as it appears, and it is already too late.  

 

Welcome to Night Vale .

Okay. So, um… Hi.  It’s Carlos. Me, I mean. I… am Carlos. The Scientist.

It is me, Carlos the Scientist.  Ahem.  Sorry, I’m not very good that this.  Can I start again?  I’m starting again.

So hello… listeners. It’s Carlos the Scientist. I’m sure you’ve heard Cecil talking about me way more than he should be,  so you know who I am. Or maybe you haven’t, I’d probably be  less embarrassed if you haven’t. Cecil is… too kind sometimes. Well  here I am. I’m sure you’re all probably wondering where our favorite radio host is at an y rate and why I, his boyfriend , am doing his job when I should be at my lab. 

Well the answer is that  Cecil is sick today. This morning, he wasn’t feeling himself when we… uh,  he got out of bed… today.  He articulated something about  _ The Malicious Death Virus _ … is that a normal thing here in Night Vale? Anyway, Cecil said he’ll be fine by tomorrow, and I told him that he couldn’t possibly go to work  today .

I suggested that he call  the station and have an intern  fill in for him, but he said that the  current intern was a…  _ ghost_?  The ghost of the late  Intern Dane, apparently. At least, Cecil  thinks it’s Dane… I’ll have to look into that. 

I won’t  go on about  the  details; because I’m sure you all hear too much about our personal life from Cecil himself and I ’ll try not to go on any longer than I have to, but I somehow found myself with my arms full of Cecil’s  show notes, driving down to Night Vale Community Radio Station  with a promise to do my best at my boyfriend’s job… uh.

Oh, um, it looks like Station Management is flailing about behind their door – they really do look more terrifying here in person. I think I’ve  talked for too long about Cecil… I should probably just read the news now. 

The Night Vale medical community has released a new study concerning the effects of radioactivity on human (Or other) eyeballs.  Humans of soul strengths below Soul Strength  Three  should keep their eyes out of microwaves and instead opt to… now wait. Does this say to  _ wash your eyeballs regularly under warm water and then replace them in your skull_ !? Now, I’m sorry listeners for interrupting here—because I’m a scientist not a doctor, but I  have to say that I’m  _ pretty sure _ that’s not healthy. I—

Oh my god. Sorry, again listeners, something just—!

It seems like an invisible tapping presence is right behind me… I can feel it, I can sense it just out of the corner of my eye, but I can’t completely see it. I don’t think it’s the Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives in Our Home.

I think… the presence is handing me a note—

Oh. 

The note… is from the Night Vale medical community. 

Based on this information, I can scientifically conclude that the presence that was just here but has since left was… the ghost of late intern Dane. Well. 

Ahem… the note,  _ well.  Oh. _ This is not a very kind note, listeners. I think I’d better stop questioning the Night Vale medical community on air. 

Onto the next segment. 

The Night Vale organization for the poor is running a clothing drive. To support those in need, throw all your clothes into your car and take them for a drive. This event will be held next Tuesday, all day, unless Tuesday is cancelled due to a scheduling conflict. 

Consider driving around that old pair of jeans that you never wear anymore, and only keep for the value of sentiment, let them “see the light for a day at least , ” it says. And then… oh, there’s a— listeners, the bottom part of this page is, well, scientifically speaking, sketches. I’m not sure if I am supposed to describe these, but I am a scientist, and part of being a scientist is knowing how to properly describe things. 

Night Vale’s community radio host  has used two different colors of pen—red and blue, and a highlighter—yellow. In scientific terms, these, listeners, are the primary colors. It looks like… oh how cute! He has drawn out his entire spring wardrobe, and by the looks of these arrows pointing every which way, he’s planning out what to wear. There are scrawled notes running along some of the arrows… _‘_ _ Work outfit for Wednesday’ ‘bowling night’ ‘wear to the ritual next month’  _ and… I realize I shouldn’t have looked at this one, _‘_ _date with Carlos’ _ there are hearts around it. He always  surprise me with his date-night clothes , but… ooh, I love it when he wears that green wool vest with that cape! 

I’m just flipping over the page now, and… ! Aw… I’m sorry, once again, but this entire page is unreadable. Cecil doodled a portrait of us over the words. He’s such an amazing artist, did you know listeners? Somehow he captured his own likeness perfectly despite never looking in mirrors.  And, aw… he is too generous with my hair of course… I don’t think I could ever get it to look  that good.

Cecil is always , of course, beautiful… more beautiful than anyone I have ever known. Not just in looks (even though those are pretty great too), but in his voice, in his thoughts. He's smart, and the way he uses words! I could spend hours just talking to my lovely boyfriend. 

Ugh! Listen to  me , I’m babbling on about my boyfriend when I should be reading you the news. And here I am, always telling Cecil to stop talking about  _ me. _I guess… it’s just  hard when Cecil  is so…  his eyes too. I can never say enough about them. I just… 

Ahem.  Back on topic, Carlos! From what I can discern under the doodle, this piece of news is something about a … vast, unknowable… something. I can’t tell.  It either says to rejoice or make noise…. Or to hide in fear and a panic that soon your life will be over, all over, beware the end of days , forgive your loved ones, and gaze upon your home for the last time.  Search for the emptiness inside you. 

…whichever, I’m sure it’s not important if Cecil doodled over it. 

The next page here, this should be easy! It’s not notes, simply a script. I’ ll read right off it.

“ You see looming silhouettes, tall buildings of cold, black brick. They are not who they said they were. This is not where they said they were taking you.  Petrichor , metal fingers sharp like spindles. You will not be the same after this, you — ”

Um. Uh. 

Eh... okay, so maybe this script won’t be so easy. When previously it had been written in English, it trails off into Sumerian, and then… I think next it changes to Russian, and… oh! The forth part is in Spanish, so I can translate that to English for you: 

“Scream, wildly, until your voice is gone. Look to the stars and wail to break your windows. Shards of shattered, shaking crystal, crimson blood. They are taking it — they are _taking_ _ everything _ .  This has been—”

 …and then it changes to some kind of ancient glyphs. I’m not even sure what segment that was.  Uh, listeners, if you didn’t know, Cecil has this habit of switching in between languages when speaking or writing sometimes... it’s actually really adorable. Usually if he’s speaking, I can still understand  what he means… he makes a lot of gestures, but with no Cecil here with me, and no gestures written out beside these words, I cannot deliver the segment this was supposed to be.  That would probably make Cecil unhappy—he takes his show so seriously. Sometimes I can imagine exactly how he would be reacting to me, here, doing this.

It’s… it’s kind of funny how even without my boyfriend here, I can imagine him as clearly as if he were in the studio with me. 

He would be wearing this headset…  It is , by the way, a color that I have never seen before—not even inside of Night Vale. This headset seems to be the only object in the world that is the color it is!  Physically, it is a  comfortable set of headphones that fit perfectly on whomever they wish, and very badly on those they do not, at least that’s what Cecil says. I can only imagine they like me quite a lot, since they are very comfortable. 

He would be sitting beside me… like he does while I’m working.  Sometimes he hums. Sometimes I hum. His arms will rest across this desk, or drape on my shoulders.  He likes to play with my hair a lot, and I try not to let it disrupt my concentration. 

Cecil likes to run his long fingers across my scalp… twining his fingers in the longer bits of hair. Well,  all of my hair is long now, since I have to fight with him if I even  _ mention  _ trimming it. He’s… heh… he’s frustrating sometimes, and very stubborn. Or maybe that’s  just about my hair. Either way, it’s something that makes my Cecil…  _Cecil_ ,  and if it’s a part of him, I love it in some degree.  Sometimes I hope he feels the same way about my flaws. I would be so lucky… 

Um, ahem.  I’ve gone off on a tangent again… oops.  Give me a moment, I promise I’ll get back to the news. 

 

Where was I? 

 

Oh, okay, here’s the next segment… no… that’s the one I just read. 

 

Uh… where is the next page? Are these numbered...? Oh, wait that’s just a smudge. 

 

I can’t seem to find… oh gosh, I’m not very good at this. I’m sorry. 

 

Hey, listeners, this may be a bit out of order, but while I sort through these notes, how about the newest science  discovery? I know Cecil didn’t announce it last week when I asked him to, and instead waxed romantic into a soliloquy about me.  It was... a very nice soliloquy, though. 

So.  Next: Science news. 

Last week, I’m sure you all remember the strange vines that began growing all over the buildings and over walkways. Besides being a general nuisance, I observed that some of them were so big that they broke into buildings. Well. I wanted to figure out what kind of plants they were, and despite no t being a  botanist, botany is only a broken bridge over a turbulent river away from  parapsychology —which is one of my areas of expertise. 

So. I collected some of the vines and did some experiments on them using beakers  and  test tubes.  And a lot of chemicals.  It involved chemistry, which is a pretty  sciencey science . Anyway, I  sped up the life-cycle of the vines, and  came to the very scientific conclusion that in about a week from now ,  the vines will sprout vibrant blue and red flowers that spray spores. 

Listen to me — do  _ not _ breathe  in  _ any _ spores from  either of the  flowers . I cannot stress this enough. The blue spores are painfully deadly, and the red spores…  well. The red spores are a  _ different _ kind of deadly. 

I admit the blue spores’ result is mere speculation, but the red ones I accidentally experienced first-hand.  It was  torturous , I was lucky I had Cecil to help me, actually.  My radio host is always hanging around the lab, talking to me while I  work. But that night— I needed more than his words , and he stayed up all night helping me do  things I’d never done before to cure myself. 

Cecil was  frantic, I mean, no more frantic that I was—the one actually dying, but still frantic.  We didn’t sleep at all that night, and… and… I’m just glad I had him there. 

I was… crying at the end. I think he was, too.  It’s something I can’t seem to forget. The way his hands caressed my skin,  delicately and oh-so-sweet.  I… I, his  eyes that night. And his... Cecil’s… 

My clearest memories involve  my eloquent honey. Some are bigger pictures, like the Arby's, and his head resting on my shoulder. Some are smaller things, his steady fingers entwined in mine. His smile, his frown. If I thought it would be beneficial, I could fill a filing cabinet with everything I know and love about Cecil. 

I'll... I'll tell you something. When I first arrived in  Night Vale, I was very alone. Yes, I had my team of scientists, but they were my  _ colleagues_, and I never really... well.  The desert air was warm, and rough, and... sweet. I moved into my lab, with help from my colleagues, and that night I was suddenly at a press conference. I do not remember how I got there, or how I went from unpacking in the mid-afternoon heat to standing in front of the Night Vale press under a sky filled with constellations, lights, and the Void.  I was nervous, and then I saw... Cecil. 

He was just... standing there, and maybe I didn't notice it at the time, but he was  absolutely  beautiful.  He had a badge clipped to his floral-print mantle — 'NVCR,'  it said. He looked at me, so  _ sure_, and  _ professional_, with a close-lipped smile. I could practically  _see_ him thinking, but about what? I ran a hand through my hair (it was getting too long, and it was bothering me) , and his eyes had something of mischief in them. I  don't  remember what I said... I said a lot of things — that I was a scientist, that Night Vale was fascinating. I said it all  straight  to that Night Vale Community Radio representative in the second row of press. 

I think... no matter what life I lived in, where we were, or who came before, I was always meant to end up here, in Night Vale, with my Cecil. He is... he is... well, he calls me  _ perfect _ , but  _ perfect _ cannot scientifically exist . I know what he means though. And, with no precise definitions, no pre-conceived notions of what  _ perfect _ means, I can say that he is  _ perfect_ . 

Ask me, if I could choose to be with anyone in the world, who would it be? I can honestly say that here, now, I would not give up Cecil for anyone in the world. Give me the choice of anyone, and my choice... it could only be Cecil. 

Oh. 

Oh my, the… the unsettling presence is back, the presence that I hypothesize is intern Dane. Intern Dane is reaching out to me. I can feel an icy tendril on the side of my face. Listeners, it’s so… cold. 

 

Ugh, ah, I—I think, I don’t… I can’t. Uh—uh —I can hear… Station Management howling, or… or screeching. 

 

Ah! Somehow I think they are u-upset that I have done s-such a bad j-job… of the n-n-news today.  They must have sent  i -intern D—

 

Ugh… ah… my hands are shaking. I think I am shaking… ah! Everything… everything is—is…

 

I  th -think this is when C-Cecil would usually go… to—

 

The  [ weather](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iXuc7SAyk2s).

 

 

Ugh… oh, my head…

 

… 

 

Ow …

 

Cecil? Cecil, are you there? Where—?

 

Oh…  oh . I remember where I am.  I’m in… the Station. The Night Vale Community Radio Station.  And… oh, my  head .

 

Listeners, I feel as if my brain has been frozen over and cracked while brittle.  I feel…  no. 

Look. I know I didn’t … do well today. I spent too much time talking about my boyfriend… my lovely, beautiful boyfriend, and t o o little  reading the news.  For this I am sorry.  This is why I am a scientist, and not a radio host. 

Speaking of the news, there are stacks of notes here that I didn’t even get through.  For example, the City Council announces a backwards storm in the upper Night Vale Area.  I wasted too much time to read all of what I was supposed to now,  so — !

 

What!? 

 

Cecil!?  What are you doing here! ?

 

Honey, you look terrible. You—

 

Huh? Oh, yes, I—of course I’ m okay. I’m fine.  A scientist is always fine, sweetie… 

 

I love you, too. 

 

I— mmph ! Oh,  Cecil , I hope the Malicious Death Virus isn’t contagious… not that I would blame you if I caught it. 

 

Yeah… yes course.  Here. 

 

 

Listeners,  Cecil here. 

I know  I do not sound like myself… I have caught a rather nasty bug.  I apologize.  Now. I know I missed my show, and am only here to end it, but I hope you will bear with me. As the saying goes:  bear with me, ostrich with you,  cougar with him, mole with her. The zoo had a breakout, animals with everybody . 

My dear, perfect Carlos did the best he could, and I think he did  very well for his first time hosting this show.  I am very proud of my boyfriend, and although I don’t think Station Management would take kindly to him again,  I still  trust him. 

News,  dear  listeners, is hard.  It’s hard to deliver, and hard to hear.  Relationships, too, are hard, in so many ways.  But with Carlos, it just doesn’t seem as hard. 

Night Vale, I hope you understand that  the non-corporeal relationship I have with you is one of  my more valued ones, and I do my best to deliver what you have come to rely on in this show. 

As such, tomorrow’s segment will be extended to cover the remaining news, that is, if I live until then.  I n any case, I’m  sure Carlos will take care of me. 

Night, citizens, is creeping. Closer comes the dark of stars and shadows.  The smell of dew and chilly air is intoxicating.  We blink, scared, until our petty thoughts content to know nothing. 

Stay tuned next for the sound of something creeping closer to you. Closer, closer still. You turn around, there is nothing there. 

Find your family, your friends… someone to brave the frightful void of night with you , and as always…

 

Goodnight, Night Vale, goodnight. 

 

  


**Author's Note:**

> I know, the weather is actually weather— it's messed up, I'm sorry. I couldn't decide on a song, so just go listen to your favorite song for the weather. Thanks ;) 
> 
> Please leave a review!


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